I won’t lie, there was a point – about 15 minutes into the second half of the grand final – where I cried. Not snotty Marley and Me-type crying. It was more a general Brett Morris-esque welling. I promised Kiki before the game that I wouldn’t weep, and I was determined to keep my promise. I’m nothing if not really petty and really stubborn.

I WASN’T CRYING! I JUST HAVE A WELLING PROBLEM!

By that point, all was lost and I knew it and it was heartbreaking. More than once I wished I was watching the game at home so at least I’d be able to listen to Rabs Warren commentate. His voice is just really comforting, and boy did I need comfort. Then Flossy Nightingale scored his second try and I got beer all done the back of my 2009 wooden-spoon jersey from over-excited Dragons fans and the sheer cold shock of being covered in mid-strength beer (they were fresh ones) snapped me back from the crying abyss.

So here’s how the game went down from our seats in the stratosphere.

The view from our seats: I should’ve known this was a bad omen.

SO MANY DRAGONS FANS. Those bitches was everywhere! And who was surprised? After last year, they had to Believe. Their team just had to transfer their skills into the finals series. On the other hand, as a Roosters fan, there’s a reason I didn’t have tickets: Because I’m not insane. I’m only that much of an optimist when I’m drunk or take a knock to the head.

I was expecting maybe … seventh or eighth for my boys. Knocked out first or second round of the finals at best. You know, something respectable, but not excessive. Something to inspire them to keep going for next year. Little did I know that Brian Smith – teeny tiny Smithy of the soothing voice and the dry, dry jokes – was a Rooster-whisperer and my team would start pulling Tigers-2005-style wins off as the season went on. It was like coming out of a hellish breakup (also knownas 2009) fat, acne-covered and depressed, and all of a sudden realising you’ve met the most perfect guy EVER. I was shocked and amazed and delighted.

Is it sad that I’m comparing my footy team to a boyfriend? Probably. But considering I spend Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights with football, it’s pretty accurate.

In the end, it turned out the 2010 Roosters/my new boyfriend weren’t going to have the whole fairytale package. They lost the grand final/he snores … but whatever. They made me happy, and I’m proud. And here’s why I think my babies couldn’t pull it off and Kiki’s dragons could.

GRAND FINALS NEED GRAND FINAL PERFORMANCES. I’m looking at you, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. The Dragons left-side is always their go-to attack side (shout out to Brett Morris for making the Kangaroos side again!) but with Gasnier back they started moving the ball to Flossy on the right wing, and the Roosters were too tired/demoralised to keep him out. Flossy you little gun! We always believed in you! It totally helped that he wore his lucky boots: those black ones that make it look like he’s a little kid who forgot his boots and had to play in school shoes. Maybe he could get sponsored by Clarks?

Truthfully, we thought he’d take the Churchill medal, but it turns out Joyce still really loves fullbacks (remember her lolz quotes about Billy Slater?), and I’m pretty sure Flossy doesn’t give a shit anyway cause he’s a grand final-winner.

Instead, we got to see Darius Boyd give one of the most unintentionally nerdy speeches ever when he accepted the Clive Churchill. It started with him standing around awkwardly and yelling ‘WOOO!’ and ended with him saying “now let’s go party!” like an American frat boy. Oh, Darius. It was an appropriate speech to hear when the Whitest Team in the NRL had just won a grand final.

Darius bringin cool back to the locker room whut whut

(For the record, not saying they’re white supremacists n stuff, just that they’re literally WHITE. B.Moz, Hornbag, Benny Creagh, you see where I’m going. There’s a lot of milk in the Dragons fridge and not much coffee).

WHAT’S THAT WAYNE BENNETT QUOTE ABOUT A CHAMPION TEAM NOT A TEAM OF CHAMPIONS? Cause yeah … that. I thought Floss was the best on the field and the most improved on the field but I wouldn’t fault any of the others, bar a few rain-related mistakes. Dean Young killed it. Jeremy Smith killed it, while looking like even more of a complete babe than usual.

Exhibit A. Dean Young congratulates Jeremy Smith on winning a non-tainted premiership and being a dirty spunk.

Weyman killed it, while he was on the field. Which reminds me, I refuse to believe Daniel Conn came in with a swinging arm until I see it. I also plan to never watch the replay, so Daniel Conn is innocent. The end. QED.

And lastly, TWO HOOKERS ARE BETTER THAN ONE. At least that’s what Charlie Sheen says. Boom tish! With the beauty of hindsight, 80 minutes of Jake Friend was no match for Dean Young and Nathan Fien. They were too sharp and speedy and his defence got too soft. Sad but true. I wouldn’t say any of my boys had shockers. They just didn’t bring the spark: they were a six when – at times this year – they’ve been a nine. Two words: next year.

Oh, and maybe a few more words: STILL FEEL KINDA PISSY YOU DIDN’T COME TO THE ROOSTERS, WAYNE. HMPH.

Wanna know WHAT WE DID?

The UDL really brings out Yassy’s classy side.

Through a massive stroke of luck, we had tickets to the game, and the always fabulous Yasmin came with us, even though her two favourite players Moonie Vanoodie and Jarrod Yee-Hah weren’t playing. It probably helped that she has dirty crushes on Todd Carney and Ben Creagh, though. She sat between us, and even let me lay my head on her shoulder in despair in the second half. Usually she doesn’t much care for being touched, so thank you Yas!

After the game, while the Indian Roosters fan in front of us openly wept and was consoled by his girlfriend, we decided the best way to celebrate Kiki’s win, drown my sorrows and avoid train queues was to head to the Olympic Park pub and drink UDLs and dance to a covers band. Nothing cures sadness like dancing to Footloose and some comforting hugs from random Roosters fans and kindly Dragons while Kiki can-can dances around the pub. The general theme of the night from Drags fans was: BUT YOU GUYS DID SO WELL THIS YEAR! CONGRATULATIONS!

Kiki’s Grand Final headpiece (she made it herself!) both entertained and confused drunk people.

Next stop: The Beach Road Hotel for Kiki to gloat at Roosters fans. The only problem was that everyone there was so pissed they thought she was wearing Roosters colours.

And lastly: a drink and a pizza with our mate Shorto from the Jacksonville Axemen. Love you Shorto! Say hi to your dad for us!

I can’t express how much I adore every single Rooster for rebuilding us back into a team to be proud of this year. They finished second but it’s not enough of a reward for everything they did. All I can say is that seeing this broke my heart. It hurt even more than seeing Fitzy leave for the English Super League with a wooden spoon and a 16-point loss to the Cowboys, urgh.

And just as I was about to fume about Mark Gasnier sailing back in to get a Premiership ring, he stepped in to comfort Frank-Paul the Wrecking Ball:

So as y’all know, June is dedicated to Women in League. Why? Because ladies who love league are awesome. It’s a universal truth.

So to raise money for breast cancer, my beloved Dragons didn’t stop with the wearing of the Pink V. Oh no. My babies went ahead and….wait for it…decorated bras. Yes, my boys are not just awesome footy players, they are now also lingerie designers. So multiskilled!

It’s like when I participated in my highschool’s production of Into The Woods as a dancer, costume designer and manufacturer (fairy wings were my speciality) AND a gun makeup artist. Do you know how hard it is to create convincing wolf makeup on a public school budget? We were straight up deprived. I also had to share a dressing room with the male leads because and I quote ‘the dancers won’t mind getting changed in front of boys’. OH OKAY THEN.

Errr anyway. Let’s take a look at some of my boys’ booby creations shall we?

Unsuprisingly, Darius Boyd has gone the red tassels in the nipple area. I don’t know why I find his choice is so predictable, I just do. I can actually imagine him whacking on the bra, swirling the tassels around and giggling like an idiot. All while ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant plays in the background. Yep.

Justin Poore, a tassel lover? Now this IS a suprise. He seems so….chaste. And you think you know someone!

Dell’s is so disco! Hardly a shock considering his pre-game dance warm up. Did you all see it last week? One word – AMAZING. You just know he is listening to ‘Earth, Wind and Fire’. Sing it with me kids! Bad-de-ya…say you do remember, bad-de-ya…dancing in September.

[Kiki and I disagree on this if you’re wondering. My guess is he was rocking out to Kool and the Gang. Get yo back up off the wall! - S]

I’m not quite sure why Jeremy Smith and Luke Priddis were forced to do this activity as a pair. Either way, that bra is outright hideous. Where is the design vision in this, hmmm? You would think with not one but TWO brains they could come up with something a bit less visually offensive than that. This is some broke-ass stripper from Kalgoorlie shit right there.

HAHA Hornbag! Oh my. Why is he so cute? And why did they give him such a tiny bra? Are they insinuating if he was a lady he would be flat chested? I love the dainty way he’s holding it, like it’s a historical artefact and he doesn’t want to cause it any harm with the acidity of his skin.

MATT PRIOR WHY YOU SO MAD? Did Dell steal the last of the sequins or something? Or are you shitty you got a giant nanna bra? I enjoy the placement of the roses in the shape of crucifixes. Fabric flowers for Jesus! This photo is amazing x 1000 and I am going to print it out and put on the ‘Wall of Lolz’ in our offices.

AWWWWW BRETTY! Why you so cute baby? Squeeee! Look how proud he looks. Like a cat that just dropped a headless bird at your feet. It has feathers and everything! New from Bonds – The Dead Bird Bra, by Brett Morris.

Aaaah Beau Scott and his ruffles. Look at the work that’s gone into that bra! It’s so…neat. I bet Beau was the star of his Year 8 Home Economics class. Who woulda thought that such an aggressive player would be so particular when it comes to craft?

Hot Bitch are they … are they butterflies in the shape of V’s? REALLY? Lolz 4evaaaaa. Who know Coops had such delicate sensibilities. The thought of that sex machine of a man hunched over a bra gluing on fabric butterflies with a hot glue gun is literally the funniest thing in the entire world.

Now, I have made fun, because well … this is Errol. But I am so so proud of my club for doing something so adorable and altruistic.

The bras are being auctioned off and all the proceeds go to Joanne McKay Breast Cancer Foundation. The foundation was set up in memory of the late Joanne McKay, wife of ex Dragons legend, Brad, who sadly lost her battle with cancer in 2002. Go and check out the auction.